


Defining "Up"

by IreneADonovan



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Flirting, M/M, Smitten Erik, Snarky Emma, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Bakery-owner Erik. Customer Charles. Lots of flirting...





	Defining "Up"

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing so much angst that I needed to just do something silly and fun and fluffy, and I was reminded of the definition of "up" a few days ago, and it just sounded like it could be one of Charles' awful pick-up lines, and this is the result of all of that...

The man came in every Tuesday and Thursday, usually around three, and sometimes around five on Fridays. And he always ordered tea and some sort of pastry.

Not that Erik had noticed.

No, he hadn't noticed the intense blue of the man's eyes, the cherry-red of his lips, the way his face lit when he smiled. Or the wavy, dark hair that looked so soft, his broad shoulders, the elegant lines of his neck...

No, Erik hadn't noticed any of that.

Nor had he taken to emerging from his domain in the back every Tuesday and Thursday at three, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. And not that his staff was starting to notice. 

Especially Emma, damnit.

She arched one perfectly-plucked brow as she noted his presence in the kitchen doorway, smirked, and asked, “Waiting for Charles again, sugar?”

So that was his name. “Of course not,” Erik scoffed.

“You know you can't fool me, sweetie.”

“Fuck off, Emma,” he muttered.

“He is cute,” she observed.

Erik glowered at her.

Emma laughed. “Relax, sugar, he's not my type. Besides, he bats for your team, not mine.”

That would be good to know, if he was actually interested.

At that moment, the front door opened and the man – Charles – wheeled in. He looked particularly good today, in a blue button-down that echoed the shade of his eyes, faded jeans, and black Chuck Taylors.

“Earth to Erik,” Emma said.

Erik dragged his attention away from Charles. “What?”

A mischievous smile crept onto her lips. “I need to go to the little girls' room. Looks like you'll have to wait on him.” She sashayed away, leaving Erik staring after her.

_I should fire you for this,_ he projected.

_But you won't._

Charles wheeled up to the counter, glanced around.

Erik rushed forward. “May I help you?”

Charles smiled, and it was heart-stopping. “Well, hello. I don't believe I've seen you before. Are you new?” His voice always caught Erik off guard, so warm and rich, with an unmistakably English accent.

Erik shook his head. “I'm the owner. I just spend most of my time in the back.”

“Too bad.” Charles' gaze raked over him. “I might come a little more often if it meant seeing you.”

The man was flirting with him. Shamelessly. Erik hadn't imagined the subtle emphasis on the word “come.” But this couldn't be happening. No one flirted with him. Most people took one look at his face – intimidating, forbidding, even downright scary, according to his staff – and wanted to run the other way.

Charles wasn't running; he was smiling and licking those plush lips.

Erik found his voice. “I suspect that could be arranged.” He smiled carefully, trying not to show too many teeth. Emma always complained he looked like a great white on the hunt.

Charles smile turned to a grin. “Wonderful.”

And thus began what became an almost-daily ritual. Charles would come in, flirt with Erik a little, place his order, then settle at one of the tables by the front window with his laptop and a stack of paperwork.

Erik would leave him to his work for a while, then he'd go over and offer Charles a refill on his tea. Sometimes Charles accepted, sometimes hie declined, but always he would flirt some more.

But he never gave any indication he wanted anything beyond the flirting.

And that was becoming a problem.

A problem that had Erik regularly beating off in the shower to images of ruby lips and sapphire eyes. Fuck, he should have been a jeweller, not a baker. So lips the color of raspberries. Eyes the color of-- Okay, he'd work on that one.

Charles had come in earlier than usual today, and was now sipping a cup of Earl Grey and tearing apart an almond-apricot muffin while working his way through a larger-than-usual stack of student papers. He was actually a professor at the local college, though he barely looked older than the students. He was also a fellow mutant, a telepath like Emma.

Erik shucked his flour-dusted apron, ran his fingers through his hair, and stepped out from behind the counter. He strolled casually over to Charles' table and asked, “Hey, Charles, what's up? Do you need a refill yet?”

Charles didn't glance up, just answered absently. “Up is a subjective direction generally indicated by a vector perpendicular to the force of the earth's gravitational pull.”

Erik blinked. “What?”

Charles looked up, seemed to realize what he'd said, smiled sheepishly. “You asked 'what's up,' so I defined it.”

“That has got to be the geekiest thing I've ever heard.”

“I teach biological sciences,” Charles said primly. “I assure you I can get far geekier.”

“You know you're cute when you geek out,” Erik said.

Charles' already-pink cheeks grew even pinker. “I-I am?”

“And even cuter when you're flustered.”

Pink turned to crimson.

“You know, I've been wanting to do this for weeks,” Erik declared, and before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the distance between them, cupped Charles' jaw in his hands, bent down, and kissed him.

Sapphire eyes went wide, then Charles was kissing him back, enthusiastically.

Erik heard scattered applause from patrons and staff, but he didn't really care. Charles tasted as good as he'd imagined, maybe better.

When they broke apart, Charles offered him a dazed smile.and asked, “So where have you been all my life?”

“Waiting for you.” Erik didn't care if it was hokey; it was how he felt.

Charles voice was husky, hungry, breathless. “So what are you doing tonight?”

Erik's smile was wolfish. “You.”

Charles really was sexy as hell when he blushed.

“So your place or mine?”

Charles grinned. “Whichever's closer.”


End file.
